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On life and its vagaries

Lost souls

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Once I saw him being pummeled

By those proud of their wanton strength

There was no cry, not even a single moan

The face went blue- black with lumps all over…


I was too young to interfere

And bore those wounds in my soul

I still can’t think of the sad incident

Without squirming in helpless wrath


Then I saw him with some stray mongrels

Around him, (and they with cries of pleasure)

He had found peace among the mute

And seemed satisfied with his poor fare


Now I hear that he had died

In his sorry hole at the top of the hill

His canine friends with some snakes

Were on guard when they found his corpse

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Written by Sam

December 2, 2009 at 6:27 pm

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